


Wedding Bed

by Ozymandiashasfallen



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drugged Sex, Forced Crossdressing, Forced Marriage, Kidnapping, Lisa Park is mentioned a bit, M/M, Minor Character Death, Stockholm Syndrome, Waylon gets to be a mommy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-20 18:03:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4797041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozymandiashasfallen/pseuds/Ozymandiashasfallen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Waylon/Eddie Alternate Universe Fic based loosely on Stephen Kings "Misery."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blinding Snow

Waylon Park had been driving recklessly as the snowstorm raged outside his car. He was anxious to get home, he had to make sure Lisa and the boys were safe. He glanced away from the road to check his phone. The screen flashed dimly to let him know that his battery was almost depleted. He hastily punched in Lisa’s cell number but before he could hit send the phone beeped weakly and died.  
“Shit!” Wayon cursed, tossing his phone into the seat behind him. He looked up just in time to watch as he hit a patch of ice, sending him spinning. He desperately pumped the breaks, but it was too late, he was already out of control. The car careened off the road, sending him straight into a telephone pole, bringing his journey to an abrupt and painful hault.  
The airbag deployed, forcing Waylon back into his seat, slamming his head on the headrest with enough force to knock him unconscious.  
Waylons eyes opened weakly, his vision blurred. The cold had begun to creep into his car, chilling him to his bones. Pain corsed like blood through his body. He breathed in raggedly and returned his head to the position it had been in when he came to. His eyes began to close once more as he heard the door to his car open.  
“Thank god.” Waylon thought and a new rush of cold air enveloped him. There was a small measure of warmth on his body as whoever had come to free him undid his seatbelt. He was lifted out of his seat and slung none too tenderly over his saviors shoulder.  
If Waylon had been fully conscious of what was going on this would have been the first indication that there was something wrong. Now, however, he was just glad he wasn’t going to freeze to death. He mustered up enough strength to open his eyes once again and saw nothing but the waist and buttox of the person carrying him. From this small peek he could tell two things, one; that his rescuer was a man, and two, that he was in no way, shape or form, an emt. Before Waylon gather his strength to shout or ask the man what he was doing, he was out again, and he remained unconscious until the next morning. 

__________________________

The room he awoke in was warm, not only in temperature but in decoration. The furniture in the room reminded Waylon of the furnishings at his grandparents house. As a child he had found those antique chairs and beds to be uncomfortable and imposing, but now they filled him with a sort of woozy nostalgia, it was almost as if he was waking up in their home again while visiting for winter vacation.  
Waylon sat up slowly, the aches in his body bloomed into sharper pains as he moved. Memories of the night before slowly wheedled their way to his attention. He turned in an attempt to stand but a new, sudden sharp pain rocketed from his left leg. He drew in a sharp breath and grunted. While he supported himself with one hand he tossed aside the yellow rose patterned comforter with the other.. His left leg was wrapped in a homemade splint. It was clearly broken, a deep purple bruise spreading across his flesh The leg was still a bit crooked, it obviously hadn’t been set entirely right. Waylon drew in a deep breath and slid his body towards the edge of the bed, he had heard enough urban legends and horror stories as a kid to know this was a horrible situation to be in.  
Just as Waylon was gathering up the strength to move his broken leg off the been the heavy oaken door to the room swung open.  
“Darling! You’re awake at last, you were starting to worry me.”  
The man standing in the door was very tall, at least six and a half feet, with a slicked back black undercut and dressed in old fashioned clothes, like someone out of an episode of the Twilight Zone.  
The man smiled kindly and walked to the bed. He examined Waylon, a frown crept onto his face. He walked around the bed slid his arms under Waylon’s legs. Waylon bit his lip to prevent himself from crying out. It felt like hot needles had been forced under his flesh as the man lifted him. Waylon did end up screaming out in pain as his leg was jostled.  
“Darling, If you wanted to be near me, you could have just called me.” The man said, his voice tut-tuting Waylon gently, like a mother lightly scolding a small child.  
“Please, I...I need to go to a hospital.” Waylon said weakly, tears were running down his face.  
“Oh darling, don’t you know that the best care you can get is that which you get at home?” The man chuckled. He leaned his head close to Waylon’s and smiled. “Besides, we have so much to do.”  
Waylon was somewhat taken aback by this statement. “This, this isn’t my home. Look, I have a wife, children, they’re probably worried sick about me. I have to get to them.”  
The man ignored his protests and instead carried him out of the room, giving Waylon his first look into the rest of the house.  
It was decorated with the same, old timey flair as the room he had woken up in. It was day now, with sun streaming through the yellowing lace curtains. He could just barely see outside, the storm had covered absolutely everything in a thick blanket of ice and snow.  
He was carried past the living room, through the dining room, and into a hallway.  
“Where are you taking me?” Waylon asked, his voice shook as with every step jostled his broken leg.  
“I drew you a bath.” Was his answer.  
The door to the bathroom opened with a slight creak. As he was carried into the bathroom Waylon could tell immediately the man was telling the truth.  
Below a small window, a rather large claw footed bathtub stood, full of steaming water. The steam rising from the tub carried with it a soft scent of lavender, some kind of bath salts, Waylon guessed. The smell made his stomach dip.  
Lisa would often use Lavender bath salts, especially after a hard day at work or they had an argument. After she’d had her soak she come out of the bathroom, skin pruned and smelling like a bath and body works, she’d lay down next to him on the bed. They didn’t say anything in these moments, they both were too tired of the fighting, and both craved a small area of quiet before sleep and then the hectic mornings which followed.  
The memories were knocked from Waylon’s mind as he was sat on the toilet. His pants had already been removed (He assumed this was in order to set his leg.) leaving him in his shirt, which was splattered with droplets of blood from a now scabbed over cut on his forehead, and his underwear. The strange man pulled off his shirt easily despite Waylon's unwillingness to cooperate. The hardest part came when the stranger tried to remove his underwear.  
The man reached for the elastic of his briefs and he instinctively kicked out with his good leg. THis knocked the unsuspecting man backwards and into the wall behind him.  
There was a brief moment of stunned silence between the two of them, with the strange man’s expression quickly darkening to that of a vicious animal. He shot forward, as if propelled on springs and clasped his hands around Waylon’s throat.  
“YOU UNGRATEFUL WHORE!” The Man raged, his grip growing tighter on Waylon’s esophagus.  
Waylon wheezed and clawed at the man's hands, his good leg trying to kick the man away once again. Waylon felt his mind fading as his air supply was cut off, luckily for him, his attackers rage subsided and he found himself a tight embrace.  
“Oh, I am so sorry, you must still be terrified.” The other man pulled away and stroked Waylon’s cheek. “Let me get you something to help you relax. Please forgive me darling, I acted rashly.”  
Waylon coughed weakly as he watched the other stand and get into the bathroom medicine cabinet. The man pulled out a small glass bottle and dug in on of the drawers under the sink for a rag. He tipped a small amount of the liquid from the bottle onto the rag and leaned back down, pressing the rag over Waylon’s mouth and nose.  
“Breath deeply now, this will help with the pain.”  
Waylon tried and failed to push the man away, and he found himself in the clutches of ether. The substance which would become the main stumbling block in his plans of escape.


	2. Ether

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, just want you to know that this chapter gets a little graphic here at the beginning. If things like animal death or vomit gets to you, I'd suggest skipping down until you see the line "He felt the other man stroke his hair once again." Just a small heads up, I know Outlast is a horror game, but I have a weird aversion to some things and I just wanted to let you know. Consider this a trigger warning I guess? Happy reading. '~'   
> Ether is one hell of a drug kids.

The ether was like nothing else Waylon had experienced before. Once he inhaled enough of the fumes his body stopped obeying the commands he gave it. He would often find himself standing beside his bed in the middle of the night, blind to the pain in his leg. Although this meant he would be able to walk if he wanted; he would not be able to make his body carry him out of the house. More often than not he’d just remain standing, staring blankly at the wall, his brain screaming at him to do something until his captor came into the room and forced him to lay back down.

The dosing was constant, every time he felt himself start to reawaken to reality his captor was there with an ether soaked rag to drag him back into the clutches of the drug. The worst thing about all this was that he was completely conscious of everything. The disconnect between his body and mind were almost even more terrifying than the man who had taken him. He was able to count the seconds with the ticking of the clock in his head while his body convulsed on the bed for no reason. He was completely and utterly numb to everything his body did.

This strange behaviour must have been getting to his captor as well, Waylon had awoken him several times with screams, peels of laughter, and nonsensical songs which always crept into his head in the middle of the night. The man finally decided to dial back on his dosing after he opened the bedroom door to find Waylon sitting on the bedroom floor with a live rat in his mouth. 

He walked slowly towards Waylon, who quickly scampered under the bed, the rat still held firmly between his teeth. 

“Darling, what is it you have there? Give it to me.” The man might as well have men talking to a dog. He held out his hand, waiting for Waylon to stick his head out from under the bed. 

Waylon did just this, but instead he bit down on the rat's neck, separating it almost entirely from the animal's body. A look of terror and disgust crept over the other man’s features as he watched the now lifeless body of the rat fall to the floor. He looked concernedly to Waylon, who then spat the blood along with the head he had held in his mouth directly into the other man’s face. 

Waylon withdrew back under the bed, blood and viscera dripping down his mouth. This time two large arms followed closely after him. He was seized by the shoulders and dragged out. As his legs passed under the threshold Waylon kicked up his broken leg. He hit it three times, each with enough force to bend and re-break the bone. Each collision with metal frame reverberating through the room and Waylon’s skeleton. 

Once he was freed he found himself hugged tightly to the other man’s chest. He stroked Waylon’s hair protectively. “Darling….” That’s all the man could say in his state of shock. Waylon looked up to him with a hazy smile.

“Hello Jeremy, what a pleasant day for a fair.” Waylons smile dissipated quickly and he began to retch. 

This time the other man managed to dodge the vile coming his way. Vomit mixed with what was left of the rat spewed across the floor, creating a large puddle of ick spreading out from where the two man sat to the door of the room. Waylon coughed weakly and collapsed, the drug was finally beginning to wear off. 

He felt the other man stroke his hair once again. “You’re all right now, Eddie’s here for you.” 

Eddie, so that was the man’s name. It seemed familiar but Eddie wasn’t exactly an uncommon name either, he’d probably ran into at least twenty other Eddies in his lifetime. 

“...hurts.” Waylon croaked, his voice strained and coarse. 

Eddie shushed him and began to move out from under Waylon. With this adjustment in position Waylon got his first sober look at what he had done to his leg. With the new bend in his leg it looked almost as if he had grown a second knee just below his original one. Just looking at it made him start to dry heave. 

“No more of that darling, I cannot take much more of this from you.” Eddie said as he hoisted Waylon up. Waylon laid weakly in the other man’s arm, staring up at the ceiling. He felt like he was death incarnate. 

He was carried into a section of the house he had never seen before, through a dim room which sat clearly untouched. He could feel Eddie bristle and tense as he walked through this room. There wasn’t enough time for Waylon to get a good look at their surroundings before they passed through another door and down into the basement of the house.

The room was dimly lit by a single bare lightbulb on a wire hanging above their heads. Through the shadows Waylon could just barely make out the forms of a sewing machine, a dress maker's dummy, and several large stacks of boxes along the wall. In the most illuminated part of the room was a large table, covered with a dirty grey mattress. 

It was on this mattress Waylon was laid out on, and Eddie quickly sat to work. He fastened down Waylon’s arms with two leather straps connected to the sides of the table. He did this without any fighting on Waylon’s part, Waylon was in too much agony to fight against the other man. 

“Open your mouth.” Eddie commanded, and Waylon complied, allowing a washcloth to be shoved between his teeth. “It’s going to hurt darling, but please try to pull through, for my sake at least.”

With those words Eddie’s hands moved down over Waylon’s body and to his injured leg. He pressed down on it, trying to guide the bones into the proper alignment. Waylon screamed, he couldn’t help himself. The bone cracked as they came together and Waylon screamed again, louder, the washcloth doing very little to muffle his cries. It felt like an eternity before Eddie straightened, satisfied at last with his work. A new splint was made and attached to Waylon’s leg, which was now at least almost as straight as it should have been.

“This will have to do.” Eddie said, unsure of his work. He looked to Waylon with a kind smile. “Unfortunately I learned more watching my mother work than I did from my father.” Eddie leaned over Waylon and gently caressed his face, wiping away his tears with his thumb. He leaned closer and kissed Waylon softly on the lips. “I love you so much my darling. You know I never meant to harm you, don’t you?”

Waylon didn’t answer, he wasn’t sure if he could at the moment. He simply balled up his fists and waited for Eddie to take him back to bed.


	3. Complacent

It took Eddie what must have been a week to find the right combination of drugs that would keep the Waylon’s pain at manageable levels while still keeping him in control of his body. Waylon was thankful for this small blessing as long as it meant not spending hours hunched over the toilet or almost drowning in his soup bowl. Despite the improvements in his condition and mental state, Eddie had started to keep an almost constant watch on him. 

He had dug a wheelchair out of the basement for Waylon, allowing Waylon more access to the rest of the house as well as a way for him to bring the injured man along with him while he went about his business. 

Eddie was fascinating to watch, especially when he was sewing. He handled the fabric tenderly, even if it was nothing more than a plain colored cotton poly blend. It was almost comical to see such a large imposing man sitting slumped over an antique sewing machine in the sitting room, churning out dress after dress, eyeing each stitch carefully and methodically. Every now and again he’d look up from his work, glance at Waylon, and shake his head. 

“It’s not quite right for you, Darling.” Or “I don’t think this cut would suit you as much as I first assumed.” he’d murmur, revise his pattern, and then set back to work. Before long Waylon had amassed a large wardrobe, each sewn especially for him by his captor. They all fit perfectly, though that came as no surprise. 

The two had fallen into a strange sort of routine, and Waylon was scared by how comfortable it made him. 

In the morning Eddie would wake Waylon by knocking gently on the door; they slept in separate bedrooms, he had been told, because Eddie was afraid of rolling onto his leg while he was asleep. Waylon suspected there was more then that, but he didn’t want to push the matter. He was perfectly fine with having the room to himself, he preferred it actually.

After he’d awaken he’d tell Eddie he was decent, and Eddie would let himself in. First there was the pills, large white ones that could choke a horse, then Eddie would peel back his coverings and help him get undressed. Eddie’s eyes would always move over him hungrily during these moments, his hands would stay on him a little too long, causing Waylon’s breath to catch in his throat. He could never pin down what exactly he was feeling in these moments, Tension, fear, disgust, all mixed together along with a faint undertone of sensuality. 

If he was given the option to either bash in the other man’s brain or grab onto him in these moments, he never knew for sure which one he would decide on. He hated Eddie, of course he hated Eddie, this man had stolen his life and was keeping him captive in the middle of fucking nowhere. However, he had felt something inside him start to boil over, even before he ended up in this situation he’d felt it. Was it repression he had been feeling? Had he been repressed? It made about as much sense as anything else in his life.

All these things coalesced and dissipated it what was never more than one or two minutes. After that Waylon would be dressed in a hand chosen dress, today's was a simple high waisted blue-grey dress with ¾ length sleeves and a skirt which fell just above the knee. He’d have his hair brushed and be placed into his chair. In which he would then be wheeled out into the kitchen for breakfast. 

Breakfast would always be something simple, porridge with fruit or eggs and pancakes. Today wasn’t much different, except for Eddie, who was usually very talkative during their meals. Waylon assumed he didn’t like the silence. Today Eddie poked at his eggs, avoiding eye contact with Waylon throughout much of meal before finally speaking up. 

“Darling…” He began, folding his hands on the table. “I hope this doesn’t come off as sudden, and while these past few weeks have been rather hectic, I think it’s time we started planning for the wedding.” 

Waylon almost choked on egg in his mouth. He coughed harshly, slapping his chest with his right hand. He managed to dislodge the food from his throat, spraying egg whites dotted with yellow yolk and spittle over his side of the table. 

“Wh-what?” Waylon gasped, coughing one last time to make sure his air passages were clear. 

Eddie’s concern melted into a smile. “Have you forgotten so quickly? We’ve been talking about it for months, of course now that our situation had changed adjustments will have to be made.” 

Waylon’s jaw went slack, he couldn’t answer, there were absolutely no words. How could the man sitting across from him have rewritten the events of that night so completely, and then invented some sort of narrative where they had known each other before?

Eddie’s smile wavered. “There’s no reason to get upset Darling, these things can be stressful.” He stood and started to pile up their breakfast dishes. When he reached Waylon’s side he leaned down and grabbed his hand. “You know how hard it is to be a man and control his baser instincts, don’t you? I don’t want to disgrace you.” Eddie set the plate on the table and caressed the side of Waylon’s face with his now free hand. 

A tremor shot through Waylon’s spine. He opened his mouth to say something, but finding he had no reply, shut it abruptly. 

“You’re so different from those whores out there. I just want to make an honest woman of you.” Eddie brushed his thumb over Waylon’s bottom lip. “But right now you’re so helpless, if I wanted I could do anything to you, and it’s so tempting to do so…” 

Waylon quickly pulled away after hearing this, Eddie shook his head lightly and resumed his work cleaning the table. “We can discuss this later, another day will not hurt me.” 

Waylon unlocked the breaks on his chair and began to wheel his way out of the dining room. Eddie turned toward him.   
“Where are you going?” Eddie asked, a slight edge had crept into his voice.

“I have to go to the bathroom.” Waylon answered as he rolled swiftly out of the dining room and into the hall. As he rolled across the smooth wood floors he found his eyes focusing on a large portrait hanging on one of the wall. Picture were three people, a man, woman and child. He assumed that this was Eddie and his parents, though something struck him as strange, though in the shadows of the hall he could not make it out until he drew closer. The man’s head was completely scribbled out, either with a black marker or paint. Waylon averted his eyes and turned into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. 

Waylon took a deep breath, closed his eyes and leaned his head back. How could he let himself forget so quickly. He reached up and touched the almost completely faded bruises on his neck. This wasn’t some benign nursemaid he was sharing a house with, it was an obviously mentally unstable man. Whether it was the drugs that had clouded his mind or something else, he had let that one crucial detail slip his mind. 

“Dammit.” He cursed, slamming his fist against the armrest of his chair. He had to start planning his escape, he had to get back home to lisa, he had to apologize for….

The handle to the bathroom door began to shake and he heard the familiar voice of his captor, utterly breaking his train of thought. 

“Are you alright? Do you need any help?”

“I-i’m fine.” Waylon croaked, he didn’t notice until now but tear had began collecting in the corners of his eyes. “Give me a moment, I’m almost done.” Waylon wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his dress, took in a deep breath and steadied his nerves. From now on all he’d focus on was survival and escape, the other two options were too gruesome for him to think about at this moment. Waylon turned his chair around and unlocked the door, a new look of determination on his face. 

He could do this. He told himself. He’d see Lisa again and everything would go back to the way it should be.


	4. Sunken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I started a new job and its taken a lot out of me.

The next day Waylon found himself laying in bed, unattended to and in pain. Eddie hadn't appeared in the morning to give him the pills that made movement without the ensuing agony possible. 

Throughout the day he would hear Eddie's bedroom door open, followed by slumping footsteps heading towards the kitchen. After this Waylon could hear nothing until the footsteps returned to the hall. These were occasionally joined by the clinking of a bottle or the crinkling of plastic. Eventually everything went quiet, there was nothing, not even the subtle hum of the heating system could be heard. 

Waylon drew in a sharp breath and sat up. He swung his legs, wincing and biting his his lip to keep from crying out, over the side of the bed. His injured leg was in a very sorry state, covered in a large purple bruise and swollen up to more than twice its normal size. He slid off the bed, standing on his good leg. 

He began to hop, using the bed as support as he made his way across the room and to the corner where the wheelchair and been set up. He quickly sat down and let out a long breath. So far everything had been going alright, he’d made it this far. 

He rolled carefully towards the door. Once he arrived at his destination he turned, or at least tried to turn, the knob. Locked, of course it would have been locked. He examined the lock, and like everything else in the house, it was an antique. He peeked through the keyhole, he had a limited line of sight but he found he could just barely see through to the living room door. 

Waylon pulled away and began his search. A bobby pin or something of that sort would be enough for him to pick the lock. He set to rummaging through every drawer in the room, the bedside table, the dresser, and the closest, all turned up empty. He let out a frustrated sigh and sat dejectedly in his wheelchair. 

This wasn’t going well so far, he didn’t think he could knock the door down, and even then the noise created was sure to alert his keeper to his plan of escape. He had no choice at the moment but to sit and wait. 

And wait he did, for almost three days. His stomach gurgled loudly as he sat. He shifted in his seat. He felt disgusting and ashamed. He had tried to keep himself as clean as possible for the first day and somewhat into the second, but the pain in his leg became too much for him to bear and he had to resign himself to sitting in his own filth.

Had Eddie forgotten about him? 

Was he trying to punish him?

Whatever the answer was Waylon didn’t care, he just wanted Eddie to open his door, give him the pills, and clean him. He’d do almost anything in exchange for that. His stomach growled again and he let out a low groan. He was sure at that moment he was going to starve to death.

His head spun as he stared at the ceiling, he felt himself fading in and out of reality. The pain was finally starting to fade from his mind, which he was exceedingly thankful for. 

He was at last starting to drift off when the sound of a key clattering against the lock alerted him. He sat pulled himself to attention as the door slung open.

Eddie stood in the doorway, he looked terrible. His hair was greasy and hung over his forehead. As he walked forward his footsteps were unstable and shaky. He collapsed at Waylon’s feet, resting his head on Waylon’s good knee.

“Darling…. I’m such a failure…. please forgive me.” There was a scraping sound and Eddie raised something to his neck. 

It took a moment for Waylon to gather his thoughts but when he did he jerked into action. He grabbed Eddie’s hand, yanking the knife away from the other man’s neck. 

Eddie’s eyes widened and the knife dropped to the floor with a loud clattering sound. Tears started streaming down his face and he pulled out of Waylon’s grip and sat up, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s neck in a tight embrace. 

“I’m sorry…. I’m so sorry.” Eddie rocked them both back and forth. Waylon felt his chest heaving as he sobbed into the crook of his neck. Waylon raised his arms and wrapped them around Eddie, comforting him weakly.

They both stank, Waylon of waste, and Eddie of whiskey, stale snack cakes, and sweat. Both disheveled and dirty men sat rocking, working through the emotions of the larger. 

Eventually the crying came to a stop and they separated. Eddie wiped his face clean with his forearm and looked back towards Waylon. His eyes seemed to have cleared with this emotional release. 

“I’m sorry Darling, that was rather… undignified of me.” He climbed to his feet. “We must get you cleaned up immediately.” He walked behind Waylon and started to push him out of the room. “We’re both going to feel much better once this ugliness has been put behind us.”


	5. His

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and forth a lot on this chapter. Then I decided to just try to work it out anyway. Still not sure about it. :/

Waylon sat at the kitchen table, freshly cleaned and in a new satin nightgown. He had been given his pain medication along with a small dose of ether. Enough to keep him compliant and pain free while not at rat-biting levels of high. Eddie gave him several pieces of cinnamon toast to tide him over until a more filling breakfast had been prepared. Although Eddie hadn’t yet cleaned himself, his nightshirt was smudged and stained and his hair still hung limply around his face, but his attitude had changed completely. 

He hummed happily with the radio as he added bacon to the frying pan. The smell filled the small kitchen and made Waylon’s mouth water. Eddie turned to him and gave him a wide smile.  
“All better now?”

Waylon nodded, licking some of the cinnamon sugar off of the corner of his mouth. He sat back as Eddie turned to the stove once again. He began piling the bacon onto the two plates resting on the counter beside him. He was being watched closely by Waylon, whose eyes followed him as He added a biscuit to each plate, walked back to the table and laid the plate in front of Waylon. 

It was piled high with food, eggs, bacon, biscuits and a slice of ham. Waylon’s stomach gurgled again and he could barely keep himself from scarfing down everything that had been set in front of him. The plate was emptied, save for a few crumbs in minutes. He looked once again to Eddie who gave him a small smile. 

“A little unladylike this morning aren’t we, darling?” He stood up and walked to Waylon. He reached out and petted his hair. “Oh, I guess I can forgive that.” He scooped up Waylon’s plate and took it to the sink. “I have to go into town today, will you be alright on your own?”

Waylon felt his heart jump. Eddie was leaving him an opening to escape? He nodded quickly and then spoke. “Yes, I think I can manage on my own. “How long will you be?” He did everything in his power to keep the excitement out of his voice. 

Eddie wiped his hands and nodded. “Only three hours or so, it is a long way into town.” He walked back to Waylon and started pushing him back towards what had become his room. He paused before shutting the door behind them. “When I arrive back, I have something to give you.” 

The click of the lock caused something else to click into place. He’d forgotten to look for something to pick the lock with. He laid his head in his hand and let out a sigh as he heard the shower start up. 

\----------------------------------------

Waylon circled the room for the tenth time after hearing Eddie make his exit. There was still nothing of use to be found. He’d tried to use some pins he’d found but they proved to be much too thin to move the doors locking mechanism. He then attempted to ram the door, slamming his shoulder into it with as much force as he could muster. The door, however, did not budge a bit. 

“Don’t make them like they used to.” He muttered bitterly, rubbing his shoulder with his opposite hand before wheeling himself back towards the bed.

He’d never noticed it before but they were barred, the shadows of the bars making clear parallel shadows on the yellowed curtains. What sort of room was this? Bars on the windows and a door which couldn’t be unlocked from the inside. Was Waylon the first person to be imprisoned here? Had Eddie taken others before? 

It was then that he remembered the photograph in the hall. The tall, imposing man with his face blacked out. Could he be the reason that this room was like this? Waylon started to slowly circle the room again, looking for clues to who the past inhabitant was.  
Again he found next to nothing. The room had been stripped of everything that would tell of the previous occupants life and filled instead with Waylon’s new one. Nothing but the dresses, underwear, stockings and shoes that had been chosen or made for him. 

He stopped and stared out the window, waiting for the sound of the front door opening. 

He must have dozed off for an hour or so because he didn’t hear Eddie’s return or the shuffling footsteps coming from the living room, he was only awakened by the sound of his own door opening.

“I have the most marvelous news!” Eddie exclaimed as he walked into the room. “We’ll be married by the weeks end.” He gleefully took a hold of Waylon and lifted him out of his seat.

“Huh? Wha-?” Waylon stammered as he woke. Eddie was holding him close as they spun around the room, his face alight with joy. 

“No need to worry. I’ve made all of the preparations. It’s going to be a small affair but you don’t mind do you?” He sat Waylon down on the bed and knelled in front of him. After digging through the pocket of his vest he produced a small velvet box. In opening it he revealed a simple diamond ring. He took a hold of Waylon’s hand and slid it onto Waylon’s finger. Like everything else, it fit him perfectly. 

Waylon stared at it in stunned silence. Eddie reached up and stroked his cheek, his fingers rough against Waylon’s flesh. 

“Everything is going to be different now, we’ll be the perfect family.” The tone of his voice was sincere, but it was a hard promise to believe. Not that Waylon had ever seriously considered staying there. He had seen this man cycle through too many emotions to believe he’d ever be stable. 

Eddie noticed the frown spreading across Waylon’s features and leaned up, pressing his lips to Waylon’s. Waylon waited for him to pull away but instead he pushed closer, his tongue sliding between the other man’s lips, coaxing his mouth open. 

Waylon turned his head away and began sliding backwards on the bed. Eddie followed close behind. 

“No need to be so shy. Even if we can’t make love now, there are still other ways we can express our more… animalistic desires.” Eddie cooed, pressing down upon him and forcing him onto his back. 

Waylon pushed against Eddie, trying to fight against the larger body closing in on him.

“Eddie, Sto-” His words were cut off by another kiss. Eddie slide his tongue into Waylon’s mouth. Waylon inhaled sharply through his nose. Eddie’s tongue slithered along the inside of his mouth, exploring it thoroughly. He withdrew and bit down lightly on Waylon’s bottom lip.

Eddie pulled away, a thin trail of saliva linking the two men. Waylon breathed heavily and raised his arms once again to push Eddie away. Eddie quickly caught his wrists and pinned them above his head.

“It’s so refreshing to see someone who cares so much about their virtue.” Eddie said as he nuzzled his head into the crook of Waylon’s neck. “But I promise yours will remain unharmed.” Eddie dug his teeth into Waylon’s neck, causing the smaller man to cry out.

Eddie positioned himself between Waylon’s legs and began to grind into him. He tried to pull away again but Eddie caught him quickly, adjusting their position so he could hold Waylon down using only one hand.

He slid his now free hand up Waylon’s thigh, dragging the nightgown up with it. Waylon shuddered as he felt the rough fingertips trace up his body, stopping at his chest. Eddie’s fingers then moved slowly towards his nipple. They circled it softly before he pinched it between his thumb and middle finger, stroking it with the forefinger until it was left newly reddened and erect. 

Waylon swallowed back a groan and shifted away from Eddie, he was quickly dragged back into position. He could feel Eddie start to harden against his crotch.

“You’re so beautiful.” Eddie breathed lightly. 

Waylon looked up and their eye’s met. Eddie’s smile disarmed him, he looked so sincere, so harmless. Their lips met again and Eddie began again to massage his chest. They separated and Eddie slid against him.

Eddie took Waylon’s hands and lead them down to his crotch. He used them to help undo his pants and pulled his underwear down. Eddie was already fully erect, Waylon glanced down between his legs and felt his face heat.

Eddie folded Waylon’s hands around his cock, and he shook slightly as he forced Waylon’s hands to stroke him. Waylon’s grip tightened, inadvertently coaxing another shutter from the larger man. As he was made to stroke the other’s shaft a million thoughts ran through his mind, although the most prevalent was, “Why am I getting excited by this?” 

 

Waylon too was erect, although not fully, but enough to make the panties he wore uncomfortably tight. His breath was uneven and ragged as he continued to stroke Eddie, he became so focused on the feel of the mans organ that he hadn’t noticed when Eddie removed his hands. 

What he did notice was when Eddie began to stroke him through the soft fabric of his underwear. He felt a shock spark up at the base his spine, causing his muscles to tense. He looked up again to Eddie, listening carefully for the quiet moans that escaped the other man’s lips. 

He was obviously enjoying himself. His fingers marked and teased at the outline of Waylon’s shaft, then teased the small wet stain growing at the head. Waylon let out a deep groan, he felt like he was sinking, or perhaps even melting into the bed. 

They both laid on the bed, punctuating their movements with moans of pleasure and heavy breaths. Waylon could feel that Eddie was coming close to his release. He stroked him faster, and Eddie followed his lead, both pairs of hands moving at a frenzied pace. 

Eddie came first, his cock throbbed as he spattered Waylon’s thighs and crotch with his seed. His body shook the bed and his last loud groan echoed in the room. As he panted to regain his breath he stroked and coaxed Waylon into his climax, signaling the end the panties Waylon was wearing. 

Waylon drew in a ragged breath and shuddered, regret filled him as Eddie laid beside him and drew him into a tight embrace. 

Eddie entangled his fingers in Waylon’s hair and kissed his Jaw bone, right under his ear before whispering. 

“You’re mine Darling.”


End file.
